


HOME RENTALS: Cum Buns 3

by leporicide



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 90s fashion, Alternate Universe - 1990s, Attempt at Humor, Bad VHS Porn, Concerts, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-10 00:11:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7822681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leporicide/pseuds/leporicide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“ID?”</p><p>“Oh yeah,” the man laughs nervously, reaching into his denim to pull the chained wallet from his back pocket. He hands Keith the card, looking everywhere but at him. Shirogane Takashi stares back at him, smiling brilliantly for the photo, vertical and red. He’s twenty-five, from the area. Keith takes a mental note before handing him back the card, face revealing nothing as he scans the porn tape. He places all the movies in a paper bag before handing it to him. </p><p>“That’ll be $8.75.” </p><p>Or: Keith works at Allura's HOME RENTALS VHS shop, bored out of his mind until a visiting friend of Pidge's brother stumbles in, attempting to rent badly recorded porn as smoothly as he can. Frankly, Keith is charmed and Shiro possibly wants to die.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jump Around

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write 90s Sheith and I ended up talking about bad VHS pornos and fashion trends. More headcanons can be found [here](http://ghostering.tumblr.com/tagged/adult-blockbuster-au). I promise to finish this quickly and return to my other works. I just couldn't hold it in any longer.
> 
> Rating will skyrocket in the next chapter so warning.
> 
> Listen to Jump Around by House of Pain while reading for the full 90s experience.

Keith stares at the ugly animatronic rendition of Godzilla for what seems like the millionth time before hitting the rewind button aggressively. The tape makes a panicked sound before clicking into order, spinning the wheels that pull the video backwards to the beginning. Keith hardly watches it but rather lets his eyes glaze over as missiles leave the giant lizard’s body, pulling back into tanks and airplanes as it moonwalks back into the deep waters it strutted out of.

“Ah,” Coran says behind him, broom in hand as he moves swiftly to sweep around the counter space where Keith sits on a stool. “A classic film.” 

Keith smacks his gum, careful to avoid his braces as he chews, watching as Japan is restored, building becoming whole again and people shuffling to start their work day. 

“It was a classic the first time.”

“Spoken like a true movie guru!” Keith can’t tell if Coran is mocking him with the way he stops brooming to twiddle his mustache, mood rings scattered on his fingers like a collection, knowing glint in his eyes. Keith frowns, almost missing the click from the small VCR, notifying him that the VHS is back to the start. He picks up the spitted out tape, placing it in the box cover, lazily labeled HOME RENTALS - RETURN OF GODZILLA. 

“You know,” Coran continues as Keith gets up to place the movie back in its proper place on the shelf in the monster movie section. “I heard they’re making another one, coming out in a couple of years.” 

“I can feel a growing trend,” he mutters back, shoving the case in between a slot barely able to fit. It tightens the shelf, making it difficult to pull a VHS tape without ripping everything out. It gives him a small twist of satisfaction. Stuffing his hands into his windbreaker, Keith moses his way back to the register. 

“Well,sequels have always been prevalent in film--”

“I don’t need a lecture, Coran,” Keith interrupts, sitting on the stool and reaching down to pull another stick of gum from the side pocket of his red Roos. Hunk had taught him the trick, claiming the pocket has saved his life countless times whenever he was in need of a smoke break. Keith doesn't like the lingering smell, preferring to keep gum, sometimes loose change, in the small space.

“Alright, that’s quite alright.” Coran returns to sweeping, though there’s a harder edge to his swing. Keith almost feels bad until he looks at the stack of VHS tapes patiently waiting for him to rewind and return to their homes. 

He finishes the third VHS when the door rings for the first time today. Lance is standing awkwardly at the doorway, struggling to take normal steps with rollerblades strapped to his feet. 

“You’re not suppose to wear those in here,” Keith calls, not bothering to look away from the flickering TV, enjoying how  _ Silence of the Lambs _ still looks artful sped up and running backwards. Lance groans at him.

“I saw you literally fucking board into the store, you asshole.”

Keith stops the smile from worming its way on to his lips as Lance finally reaches the counter, gripping the glass for dear life. He reaches up and tugs on Keith’s ponytail, pulling a few strands loose, something familiar and common between the two that he barely flinches away, working to shift his attention from the screen to Lance across from him. The darker man looks pleased, his overalls held up by only one shoulder strap. Keith wants to ignore the dark pattern overload of his shirt underneath. Keith also wants to vomit.

“Hey! Great shirt, Lance!” Coran’s voice calls from three aisles down, peeking at the end of the shelf with a thumbs up. Lance shoots the man with a winning smile. 

“Don’t encourage him,” Keith calls before looking at him. “What’s up?”

“Pidge is having another marathon. She’s hoping you’ll be willing to bring some films.”

Keith narrows his eyes and Lance has the decency to look guilty. He waits it out, watches Lance squirm under his stare until he lets out a small sigh, resting his cheek on his palm. “Fine.”

The mood instatly brightens, a blooming expression dancing on Lance’s face. “You’re a gift, buddy.”

“I live to serve.”

“Want Hunk to pick you up? He’s driving me there after work.”

Keith raises an eyebrow, vanishing under his bangs. “You know that thing is about to die any day now.”

“And until it does, I’ll ride in it.”

“Fine, I finish at nine.”

Lance’s smile is infectious, despite how much he irritates Keith. He’s smiling back without noticing until the man turns around and begins his careful trek out the door, wobbly knees shaking with the concentration of keeping the wheels from tripping him. The door rings to signal his retreat.

“You kids never invite me,” is heard, quiet at the end of the store. Coran entering the back room while mumbling to himself. Keith rolls his eyes, pulling out the finished tape before reaching for the next one.

***

Keith only knows it’s time for his lunch break when he hears the gentle tapping against the glass window behind him. He turns around on his stool to stare at Pidge, standing in their jean jacket, huge glasses sliding low on her nose. She’s got a fresh cut on her cheek, something that makes Keith feel sour, and she gives him a friendly wave, pointing at the end of the strip mall to a bunch of cluttered tables. Lance is already sitting on the plastic, rollerblades resting beside him, with Hunk relaxing on the bench by his feet. They both notice Pidge pointing at them and wave, Lance excitedly gesturing for him to come over.

“I’m heading out for lunch!” Keith calls, getting up from his stool and grabbing his wallet from under the counter stuffing it into his windbreaker and hopping over.

“Bring me back something, would ya?” 

“Sure.” He heads over to the break room first, grabbing a wrapped bandage from the medkit and some antibacterial cream in a small tube. He spits out his gum in the trash without stopping, gagging when he still feels some pieces stuck between the colorful braces in his mouth.

Keith exits the rental store, jogging up to Pidge who shuffles awkwardly by the entrance, waiting to walk with him. She’s wearing Matt’s cut jeans, cut harshly above her knees to show the healing scabs and the new bruises, held up on her thin waist by a leather belt and a green flannel that’s also clearly her brother’s based on the size. When he gets close, he wastes no time, grabbing her chin and opening the cream. Pidge grunts but let's Keith manhandle her as he rubs soothing circles around the break in skin. It barely takes a minute, ripping the bandaid open with his teeth before gingerly covering the wound.

When he lets her go, Pidge reaches up to delicately touch her face, tracing the lines of the band-aid with a small amount of care in her eyes. “Thanks,” she mumbles but Keith knows that she means it more than she can show. The two begin their jog to the table at the end of the block, Lance loudly shouting at a group three tables away with Hunk nodding in approval.

“And fuck your shitty Parasucos!” The table looks angry, Keith recognizes them as the retail workers from the clothing section of the mall.

“Stop picking fights, Lance,” Pidge calls when they’re closer, taking her seat across from Hunk, leaving enough room on the table for her to eat away from Lance’s ass. Her back is sunburnt from the skin revealed by her spaghetti strap halter top. Keith falls beside her, pulling off his jacket in the heat and letting his head rest against the cool plastic as Hunk hands him a paper bag. 

“I got your favorite. Also, something for Coran since I figured he’d ask.”

“Thanks,” Keith hums, looking up at Hunk’s bright smile, thick fingers digging into the opening of the crisscross patterns on the table. He opens it to find the burger warm and the fries crispy. He hadn’t realized how starved he was until he begins chewing. 

“Fuck,” Pidge is stuffing herself. “I’m never over your grilling Hunk, what the fuck.”

Hunk looks sheepish, looking up at Lance as he pulls him into a headlock. “Hunk is not only the best cook in this whole mall, but the whole town. Our own Michelangelo, except the food actually tastes great.”

“I don’t know how I feel being compared to a turtle,” Hunk coughs out, attempting to wrestle out of Lance’s hold without any real effort.

“Think of it more as being compared to a ninja.”

Keith opts to focus on eating, quickly pushing the burger into his mouth. Pidge catches on and starts to do the same, rushing to shove as much down her throat as possible. She wins only because Keith has fries to finish as well. 

Lance finally releases Hunk, shuffles off the table to sit properly on the bench with the group. “So,” he begins, reaching to steal a curly fry from Keith’s bag. “What’s the game plan?”

“Simple. You guys get to my place by ten. I recorded the last five episodes of Mighty Morphin and Keith is bringing the Dragonball episodes we missed.” 

Keith nods, wiping his hands on a napkin. “I’m getting picked up by Hunk.”

“Yeah, I’ll hit up the rental after grabbing Lance.”

“I can bring some pizza,” Lance offers, which Pidge fiercely agrees to, tugging at her inflatable bubble backpack to remove her wallet. She pulls out a couple of bills and hands it to Lance. “Thanks.”

“Sleeping over?” Keith asks.

Pidge looks thoughtful before grinning. “Matt’s got some college friends in town so he bought a bunch of beer.”

It’s unspoken but they all understand.

“Alright, we set?” Pidge asks, joining Lance in consuming his fries. Keith fakes agitation, pulling the food away from reaching, grabby hands. It’s Hunk who snags the rest without much more than a grin on his face. “Good. I have to get back to work.” She pulls her skateboard from under the table, unbeknownst to Keith that it was there. It’s covered in stickers of green aliens, random peace signs, similar to the patches they collect. 

“Same,” Lance mumbles from the fries Hunk keeps handing him. Keith almost would miss them if he wasn’t so full. They get up without much more talking and when Keith returns to work with the prepared lunch for Coran, the man nearly weeps.

***

Keith is clicking his nails against the glass counter to the rhythm of Jump Around, blasting on the old beatbox they have stationed at the end of the store, nailed haphazardly to the wall thanks to Allura’s quick thinking. Cheap and effective, she’d said as she handed Keith a bunch of empty cassette tapes. 

It’s dark outside, the light from the store appearing harsh in contrast. The fan blowing air at Keith’s face struggles to keep up after working all day in the heat. He’s alone, Coran left around three hours ago with plans to marathon recordings of the Oprah show. He had offered Keith an invite but something about watching reruns in Coran’s living room alone just made it seem like accepting was admitting his social life was over.

He has less than an hour left before he shuts up, leaning on the wobbly stool in an attempt to keep interested in living. He’s pondering just closing early when the familiar sound of the bell ringing dashes it. Keith looks up, the yellow light of the store washing him out.

There’s a man at the front, taller and definitely someone he has never seen around the mall before. He’s got an impressive build, looks older than him by a few years. The man looks at Keith with a smile, and it’s so incredibly charming that Keith almost leans the stool too far back and falls.  He grips the counter to steady himself, wide eyed and panicked, earning a laugh from the customer. 

“You guys still open?” He asks and god, his voice is lower than Keith’s, does something mushy to his head and causes him to give an awkward smile in return.

“Ah, yeah, sorry.” Why the fuck did he apologize?

The stranger looks like he’s going to laugh again, which is perfectly fine with Keith, he can laugh anytime. “Uh, no problem?” He jokes back before making his way through the store. Keith pretends to focus on the silent movie playing on the TV, some foreign film he never bothered to check the name of. His peripheral remains on the man as he eases through the aisles, looking thoughtful but never lingering too long on one section. Keith immediately understands the pattern and can barely resist rolling his eyes, watching as he finally makes his way to the XXX section, almost tip toeing against the backdrop of a deserted rental house. 

The man glances up at him, almost unsure and nervousness appearing on his face for the first time since he’s entered. Keith finds him attractive so he gives him some leeway, busies himself with the register and other nonexistent chores in the front. 

It takes a few minutes before the stranger finally makes his way to the counter. He’s looking less and less sure of himself the closer he gets to Keith, pulling at the black turtleneck against his skin as if it’s beginning to irritate him. Keith pops the bubble he was blowing with his gum and gives him a lazy smile, bracing nipping slightly at his lips.

“Um, how long are your rentals?” The question punctuates the fall of a stack of VHS tapes onto the counter, the first being THE RETURN OF GODZILLA that Keith rewinded earlier. 

Keith raises an eyebrow as he begins scanning and logging the videos. “A week.” Sure enough, after two other random films, rests  _ Cum Buns 3 _ , the bright cover of a bare asses with the sharpied HOME RENTALS XXX scribbled across. The man is looking panicked at Keith’s hesitation. Finding the reaction endearing, he can’t help himself from looking him in the eyes.

“ID?”

“Oh yeah,” the man laughs nervously, reaching into his denim to pull the chained wallet from his back pocket. He hands Keith the card, looking everywhere but at him. Shirogane Takashi stares back at him, smiling brilliantly for the photo, vertical and red. He’s twenty-five, from the area. Keith takes a mental note before handing him back the card, face revealing nothing as he scans the porn tape. He places all the movies in a paper bag before handing it to him. 

“That’ll be $8.75.” 

Shirogane nods, pulling the money from his wallet. The nervousness is fading from his face, apparently feeling better from the lack of flack from Keith. He accepts the money with practiced fingers, quickly dulling out the change and shooting him a smile. “Please rewind the tapes upon return.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you for renting with us, Shirogane” Keith states, already looking at the clock above their heads. 

“Call me Shiro,” the man responds. Keith stops chewing his gum before narrowing his eyes playfully.

“Plan on being a frequent customer?” Shiro’s eyes widen and the embarrassment returns in full force, coloring his cheeks a deep red that Keith can only call flattering. 

“Something like that,” he murmurs, grabbing the bag on the counter before making his way out of the shop, shoulders hunched a little and not looking back. Keith stares at the door where he left, hoping he comes to return the tapes while it's his shift. 

Loud honking pulls him out of his thoughts, screaming angrily at the window. Keith looks outside to see Hunk’s beat up Hummer H1 shining bright in the darkness.  He moves quickly, shutting the register, grabbing the stack of Japanese labeled VHS tapes under his workspace, locking the door and pulling the bared security down to cover the glass windows.

“Come on, man!” Lance is shouting from the window, waving frantically at him. Keith stumbles into the car, shoving his way to sit in the front between Hunk and Lance, ignoring the way the latter yelps and tries to push him to the back.

“Let’s go,” he calls, patting Hunk’s shoulder and the car roars to life, but not without a hiccuped threat to give out, sending all three men into momentary panic.

They make it to Pidge’s house in record time, Keith’s ass only hurting mildly with Hunk’s inability to avoid potholes, but rather attract every single one in the area so he can run over them excitedly. Lance never seems to complain, probably enjoying the glee Hunk gets from it.

It’s Matt who opens the door for them, beer in his hands. He looks surprised. “You guys marathoning tonight?”

“Pidge didn’t tell you?” Keith asks as Lance wiggles his way past her older brother, pizza in hands as he makes his way to the basement.

“No,” Matt slowly responds, watch Lance leave them at the doorway. “I was kinda gonna use the basement tonight.”

“Sucks, man,” Hunk says, no malice in his voice but no sympathy either as he gently pushes Matt out of the way to follow Lance. The tapes at Keith’s side suddenly feel heavier as the man stares at him.

“It’s ranger night?” Keith shrugs, tiptoeing around him. He shuffles his way past to head to the basement, nearly tripping when he spots him. Shiro is standing in Pidge’s kitchen, lips around the neck of the beer bottle. Their eyes meet and Keith thinks he witnessed a man pass away. 

He waves. Shiro, albeit still stunned, waves back before Keith nearly trips his way down the stairs. 

Keith doesn’t know how he makes it to the ugly colored couch, finds his place between Hunk and Pidge, somehow stuffing a whole slice of pizza in his mouth before asking:

“Is Shiro your brother’s friend?” 

Pidge doesn’t look away from the screen, hitting the play button repeatedly on the dying remote to trigger the episode to start. “Yeah, he’s visiting for the summer.”

“Oh,” is all Keith can say when they hear Matt screaming from the top of the stairs for Pidge to stop fucking stealing his underwear, Mom has bought her some already and he  _ needs  _ them.

He’s ignored in favor of Zordon appearing on screen, asking a bunch of teenagers to save the world from yet another enlarging super villain with a mild superiority complex. Keith can relate. 


	2. Rhythm is a Dancer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The blush is gone from Shiro’s face, replaced with an almost cool look that has Keith reimagining his fantasy earlier. “I plan to. Will you?”
> 
> The question knocks the wind out of him enough to let Shiro slip through the door. Keith stares, at the blinking exit scene, at the blue screened TV, at the laces of his red ROOS.
> 
> “Holy shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this chapter mostly done so I figured here's some more happy sheith of the 90s. Sorry it's unbeta'd I can't help myself. 
> 
> Fun Fact: Every porn mentioned in this fic is from the first Clerks film. Aw ya.
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and support, you guys carry me through some heavy self doubt and shit emotions. Also thanks for Keir, who dealt with my 90s dreams with me.

Keith wakes up with Pidge breathing heavy on his neck. He had somehow fallen asleep on the couch, something he hasn’t done since the beginning of high school. There’s a pizza box resting on his left thigh, and his right leg is elevated by Hunk’s abdomen, who somehow became the little spoon for Lance’s long arms. They’re crammed on the smallest couch possible and through an unorganized placement of limbs, they had all managed to sleep on top of each other. Pidge shifts her weight and suddenly, Keith’s left arm is free.

“You up?” comes her voice at the nape of his neck, making his hair stand up. She sounds groggy, uneven and her glasses are squished between them, having fallen from her face during the night. 

“Yeah,” Keith whispers, his voice equally as hoarse and maybe it was the total of six beers they drank together. He almost feels frustrated how little it took for them to revert back to sleepovers.

“Let’s get breakfast.” 

“Fuck yes,” he almost moans at the thought. It takes them a couple of wiggles and panicked silent pauses when Lance would stir for them to break free. When Keith stands up, his knees shake from the strained position he was in all night, taking him longer than he’d like to get used to walking again.

“I need to change, my clothes are covered in pizza and beer.” 

“You shouldn’t have had Lance convince you to reenact the fight scene between Goku and Vegeta. Also, him making you Vegeta was a not so subtle dig.”

“I don’t care, I still won,” Keith mutters, following Pidge up the stairs to another set. Reaching her room, he feels winded and old. 

“He was right though. You sound like him.”

Pidge hunts around her room for some sweatpants, only finding her old basketball shorts would fit on Keith’s waist. He takes the offending bright green material and stares at it before moving to remove his pants while she was facing away.

“I think I have Matt’s old camp shirt. That should fit you,” she mutters, rummaging through her drawer, pulling loose articles of clothing looser and ignoring the missing sock pairs that stick out haphazardly. 

“Great.” Keith folds his pants, happy to be free from them and light his thighs breathe before being quick about his shirt, pulling it over his head and throwing it on top of Pidge’s bed. She turns around then, camp tee in hand and raises an eyebrow at the grabby hand Keith was aggressively throwing her way.

“You know,” she says sweetly, with a dip in her voice and he does not like the sound of that. There’s a sinister glint in her eyes. Keith is starting to feel vulnerable and naked, almost wanting to cover up his chest the longer her gaze remains. “If you want to attract Shiro’s attention, you should forgo the shirt.”

He’s known as the red ranger in their little group, not for his leadership skills or his favorite color, but because when he blushes, the erythema runs so deep into his neck and up his ears that it’s horrific. “ _ Pidge _ ,” he nearly screeches, making a dive for the shirt that she evades. 

“I know he’d be interested. I mean, his sense of style needs work. Was that frosted tips I saw?” She’s dancing on her bed, shirt in hand. Keith is well aware he can grab another from her open dresser but it’s about the principle. 

“They’re not,” he grits through grinding teeth, hopping on the bed and watching how it dips to nearly trip Pidge into him. She watches him with a smirk, careful with concentration. “The whole bang is dyed.”

“White? Do you think he surfs?” Keith makes another dive for the white tee, jumping from his heels in her direction. Pidge only laughs, twisting on her foot to brush past him and run to the other side. He nearly falls off the mattress and face plants.

He turns to look at her from where he’s landed on his knees. “He’s got a nice body, and he’s tan,” she continues, stroking her chin thoughtfully. “But no tan lines.” 

Keith realizes what she means by the way her eyebrows rise, disappearing under her bangs. “I bet he tans  _ naked _ .”

“Pidge!” Keith screams and fuck, it’s undignifying but he can’t seem to reel it in anymore, diving low for her ankles. She can’t dodge this time, moving to slow for Keith’s spike in anxious agility. He grabs hold of her ankles and brings her down to his level, pulling her under him as he wrestles for the shirt.

Pidge would die first before she surrendered.

“Pull it from my cold dead hands, lover boy,” she cooes, tucking the cloth under her armpit and curling up. Keith wrestles against her, trying to gain purchase despite her kicks pushing him away. He grabs her leg to still it, finds a small piece of fabric to grip and pulls.

“Pidge, I need my boxers back. Shiro is staying over and I need--” Matt’s voice trails off and Keith almost refuses to let up because he won’t lose, dammit. Pidge is trying to breathe from her nose to keep from laughing but only succeeds in snorting obnoxiously multiple times.  

The pause continues until Keith looks up to the doorway, grasp solid of Pidge’s leg remaining to spot Matt standing unimpressed, shoulders hunched. He’s caught them, Lance and Hunk included, and ridiculous limb entanglements before, wrestling to just full on fighting one another. What makes Keith slacken his hold is the look on  _ Shiro _ ’s face, from his spot behind Matt, wide-eyed and mouth agape. He realizes how he must look, ugly green shorts just covering his ass, shirtless and red in the face. He’s panting from exerting himself. The only thing he’s thankful for was that at least Pidge was fully dressed, snickering but otherwise normal in appearance.

“Whenever you guys are done fighting Mothra, please consider giving me my boxers.” Matt’s voice sounds bored, like he’s tired of the same old scene. Shiro is still silent and that sets Keith on edge, dropping his guard. Pidge attacks, pulling him down to sit on his abdomen, knocking the breath out of him. He wheezes.

“Yeah, yeah,” she waves her brother off before looking directly at Shiro. Keith thinks it’s his turn to pass away.  “Are you guys getting breakfast?” Matt nods, moving to leave the doorway to Pidge’s cave. “Great, we’re coming.”

“What?” Keith shouts at the same time as Matt coughs a “No.”

“I’ll tell mom about  _ Cum Buns 3 _ .”

There’s a silence that encases the room, thick like mucus that clogs up Keith’s throat. It’s Matt’s turn to blush, turning a harsh shade of red that he has never seen grace Pidge’s skin. Shiro also looks like he’s losing it, a calmer blush reaching under the color of his shirt, plain grey against black jeans. Keith licks his lips and finds food in his braces. Fuck, he hadn’t had a chance to brush his teeth last night. 

“Fine, but we’re leaving in 20 minutes,” her brother squeaks, quickly closing the door. Pidge hops off of him, throwing the shirt in the drawer to blend into the pile.

“You’re gonna need something better than that to match the shorts,” she doesn’t look his way before heading to her closet.

It dawns on him after he’s being handed a scrunchie and a toothbrush, shoved into the bathroom, MTV shoulder cut shirt hanging loosely off his frame.

With the toothbrush in his mouth he turns to face her stoic expression. “You planned this.”

Pidge smiles, ripping the bandage off her cheek to place a fresh one.

***

The drive to Walker Bros is done in relative silence, except for Rhythm is a Dancer blasting from Matt’s shitty speakers. Keith and Pidge are in the back, windows down and enjoying the breeze that continues to pull loose strands of hair out of Keith’s hair tie.  While sticking his head out, he watches Shiro through the passenger mirror. The man’s hand is stuck out of the car, fingers strumming on the door in time with the upbeat song. He’s just as attractive as Keith remembers from last night, a faint scar on his nose, small barely there freckles from the sun splattered on his cheeks. One could argue that Shiro was breathtaking.

“You okay there, braceface?” Pidge’s voice breaks his concentration, pulling him back into the car with her. 

He doesn’t validate her insult with a response. “Do you think it’s fine to leave Hunk and Lance at your house.”

Pidge shrugs her shoulders, a spaghetti strap coming loose to hang off her. Neither correct it. “Hunk has the keys to my place. After they raid my fridge, I’m sure they’ll lock up. Plus, you know how much of a clean freak Lance is. My basement is gonna be spotless when I get back.”

Keith narrows his eyes at her. “Stop using your friends.”

“No.” She returns to facing the window, a small smile playing on her lips. Keith can’t help but mirror it. 

Finding parking by the restaurant took a matter of unrestrained minutes that had Matt grinding his teeth.  It did not help that Pidge constantly kept referring to fake slots, pointing her fingers in the generally wrong direction.  Keith and Shiro kept to themselves but when Matt had finally had enough and blew up on his sister, who only shied away and smiled, Shiro laughed. Keith was instantly captivated, how he laughed from his chest instead of his throat, deep and meaningful and--

He has it so  _ bad _ .

Pidge is making crude gestures at him. 

They get seated at a table by the window, with Keith to Shiro’s right as Matt grabs the man’s attention. He pretends to study the menu but he’s more interested in in their conversation, something about a professor who assigned work over break, apparently unheard of in their university. Keith thinks about all the summer homework he used to get in high school, only motivated to finish it whenever Lance would proudly proclaim he was almost done with his, and a whole week early at that too.

“I’m not covering for your friend, Pidge,” Matt cuts through his thoughts, snapping his attention. 

Pidge looks confused. “Dude, what.”

“No worries,” Shiro interrupts before Pidge begins to murder Matt with her bare fucking hands in the middle of this respectable establishment. “I’ll spot you.” Shiro is looking directly at him, eyes narrowing in a smile, wiggling the scar on his nose. Keith wants to remind him he rented him the VHS porn tapes so lay off the charm.

Instead, he’s acutely aware of how his bare thighs stick to the plastic of the seat and shifts to feel the skin rip free with a cringe. “Thanks,” he smiles at him. He doesn’t notice the way Shiro hurriedly looks away, hand covering his mouth. Matt is looking at them suspiciously. 

“Let’s get hash browns,” Pidge requests, pointing at the higher end expenses on the menu. 

Keith groans. “You know I hate how they get stuck in my braces.”

“They’re uh, cute,” Shiro points out, looking everywhere but Keith. “Your braces, I mean. How long have you had them?”

“A few months now. I have a year,” Keith watches Shiro nod, looking back at the menu before a smile creeps on his face. Is he trying to flirt with him?

“You should have been there the first time he tightened them!” Pidge sounds pure villainous, directing her gaze to him. “We made a thing of it, all of us gathering around the dentist’s waiting room. He came out nearly crying. Lance got him to stop mopping with some of his mom’s chocolate pudding.”

“It really hurt man,” Keith mutters, sinking into his seat. 

“I bet, I used to have them when I was in grade school,” Shiro laughs, grinning bright and Keith can see how perfect his teeth are. He doesn’t understand how that turns him on but he lets the thought linger. His eyes settle to Shiro’s exposed neck, follows the line of muscle to the faint lining under his shirt.

The waitress comes around, a chorus of orders and soon, Keith has pancakes sitting warmly in front of him. 

***

Rather than the full day, Allura signs Keith with the graveyard shift that night. It means he’s still closing but he only has to work five hours. The VHS store is silent tonight, other than the static the lights buzzing creates, keeping a seedy view of the rental shop through the large open windows. He’s reminded of a hospital horror movie, waiting for the killer to walk in with a charming smile on his face.

He’s bored, Coran having rewinded all the tapes for him prior to his arrival.  He tries watching the older VHS recordings of Thundercats! but can’t seem to keep himself focused. After today, he’s coming to learn that talking to Shiro is enough to set him off balance for the rest of his day. He wonders if Shiro already returned the tapes, put them through the return bin so he wouldn’t have to face anyone. It’s something Keith would see himself doing if he rented something like  _ Cum Buns 3 _ . Do they even have the  first two tapes?

The door rings, signaling that maybe something exciting was about to happen and Keith’s instincts were dead on the money. Shiro stands, the same outfit he wore this morning, grey shirt hugging his arms. Keith can’t look away.

“Here to rent?”

Shiro nods, smiling and there’s a lot less confidence there than there was this morning. The pattern has already been set in motion. Shiro quickly moves from aisle to aisle, seeming to grab a random tape or two to exam before hastily putting it back on the shelf. He does actually pause before the XXX section, staring at cases with color cartoons printed He grabs two tapes before shooting Keith a sideways glance. Keith doesn’t want to spare him this time. He wants to commit murder.

He shoots the unsure man a smirk, chin resting on his palm. He free hand shoots him a little wave and gestures to the aisle they both know Shiro is gunning for. The man turns away, frown deeply etched onto his face but his progress doesn’t stop.

He spends sometime looking at the VHS tapes with a serious gaze.  Keith stops looking at him, growing embarrassed himself. He briefly wonders what it would be like to watch porn with Shiro, to sit beside him in front of a blinking screen of girls and guys moving against each other. Is Shiro an active participant? Would he jerk off to the constant sounds of moans and guttural breaths? His mind wanders, sitting next to Shiro on Pidge’s couch of all places, eyes glued to the screen. Shiro would look calm at first, a small blush at the corner of his ears and lower neck like at breakfast. He would watch Keith from the corner of his eye. Keith would get hard, he always does at the slightest sexual implication, knows better to watch porn himself. Shiro would watch him squirm, wiggling around until large hands would pull him on his lap. He would feel how hard he was through his pants and say--

“Keith? Hello?”  Shiro startles into his vision. His elbow slips from the counter, causing his chin to crash land directly on the glass. The sound is shattering, echoing through the small shop. Shiro looks shocked, dark eyes wide with surprise before a laugh bubbles out of his throat. Keith feels absolutely terrible, figures it’s karma for giving Shiro shit. He sits back up, rubbing his sore jaw and feeling tears prick the back of his eyes. His face must be red.

There’s a stack of VHS tapes waiting for him to scan.  Keith doesn’t really talk, feeling disgruntled but enjoying the man’s heavy laughter enough to let a smile slip through.  This time, there are more interesting choices for cover up tapes in Shiro’s pile. Two DBZ and one Thundercats! It’s not the most recent, because Keith was watching it.

“Do you want the newest one too?” he asks, looking up at Shiro when the laughter finally stopped. Shiro nods, watching as Keith’s fingers deftly move to eject the tape and place it in it’s box.

“Shouldn’t you rewind that? You know, store policy and all?”

Keith looks at Shiro from under his lashes, sure to hold his gaze. He licks his lips to pull the stare to them before smirking. “Can it, video boy.”

Shiro does in fact can it. His mouth snaps shut as Keith continues through the VHS pile, striking gold in a hair of a second.  _  My Pipes Need Cleaning _ stares at him, An aggressive shot of a barely censored cock, black and white, stares back at him. Keith looks up at Shiro, unable to hide his amusement this time.  Shiro finds his shoelaces so fucking fascinating right now. It only gets worse with the following  _ Ass Worshiping Rim Jobbers _ , the HOME RENTALS XXX sharpie purposefully placed to cover the best parts, Coran’s handiwork no doubt. The last VHS is the vengeful return of  _ Cum Buns 3 _ .

“A classic,” Keith whispers, unable to stop himself. Shiro coughs wildly, hastily reaching into his wallet. He begins to pull his ID but Keith ends that with a wave of his hand. “Oh, I know how old you are.” He’s trying to be flirty but maybe it comes off a bit to sinister because now Shiro is looking up at the clock in front of the door in panic. “The total is $9.28”

He nods, ripping a ten dollar bill from his wallet and not bothering to wait for change and he makes a speedy escape towards the door.  “Have a nice day!” Keith calls to his retreating form. “Or a nice night!” 

The last one gets him, making the broad shouldered man pause at the door, turning to face Keith.  The blush is gone from Shiro’s face, replaced with an almost cool look that has Keith reimagining his fantasy earlier. “I plan to. Will you?”

The question knocks the wind out of him enough to let Shiro slip through the door.  Keith stares, at the blinking exit sign, at the blue screened TV, at the laces of his red ROOS.

“Holy shit.”


	3. Whoot, There it is!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And Pidge let you?”  
> “She’s got D&D that night or something?”  
> Keith also has D&D that night but he’s sure they’ll understand, because there’s only one paladin this high elf is interested in testing his dexterity rolls with.  
> “I’ll be there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im back baby, kill me quick, it's spreading.  
> thanks to kouji for beta reading and convincing me to update this fun fic. also thanks for all the comments, and the amazing people that reached out to me on twitter. i appreciate it, my ass needs validation.

On average, it takes Keith 30 minutes to skate home after closing.

The roads are usually dead this late at night in their small midwestern town and there are plenty of small tunnels and shortcuts to skate through easily enough. After Shiro left and Keith quickly locked up, double checking the register because the impending panic attack does not justify his crucifixion by Allura if he fucks up simple math.

The moment the safety bars fall over the outside of the shop and click to signify their security, Keith throws his board in a dramatic fashion, slapping onto it and evacuating the area. He only turns back once to stare at the flicking of HOME RENTALS in its off-set red neon lights, bleeding into the dull sky. To most, it must look like some washed up video store, but tonight, it’s a holy place where dreams come true.

And Keith knows that this dream is especially sweet.

His door opens without much preamble, in fact, it isn’t even locked. His dad always works the night shifts at the plant near the edge of town and despite never being home at the same time lately, the old man refuses to leave the door secure. He told Keith it was so he’d feel welcome coming home, but Keith is waiting for the day he shoves himself into his home and there’s nothing left but a bunch of overdue library books that stare angrily at him by the front.

His skateboard hiccups at the groove in the entrance but he merely jumps off it as it sails into the living room and under a table. He jumps over a few tools, curtesy of his father, that are scattered over the ground before reaching the cord phone in the hallways and nearly ripping it from the wall.

Keith knows Pidge’s number by heart, though it’s been some time since he’s dialed it.

They work so close to one another and Keith practically lives there most of the summer but Matt’s college friends are in town. And that means _Shiro_ is still in town, which would be weird if he wasn’t, Keith just _saw him_. And he had _Cum Buns 3_ with him, freshly rewond and ready to fucking go. Or go fucking. Or—

“Hello?” comes Matt’s groggy tone after a couple of rings. There’s a lot of commotion behind him and Keith realizes with some guilt that it must be around the time the Holts have their late ass family dinner.

“Um,” Keith starts because he never really planned a start. He suddenly feels younger for the first time since he’s met Matt. “This is your captain speaking, we’ll be experiencing some turbulence so—”

“Keith, is that you? Of course, it’s you, I’ll get Pidge.”

Keith nods to no one and as he hears the childish scream of “ _PIGE, ALIEN BOY IS ON THE PHONE”_ followed by a _“ONLY I GET TO CALL HIM THAT, FUCKER_ ” and Mrs. Holts’ reply of _“LANGAUGE.”_

After some shuffling, Pidge’s voice rings through the cord Keith hadn’t noticed he’s wrapped around the length of his arm with intense interest. “O captain, my captain! Steady this plane or we’re all gonna die.”

Keith smiles, his lips a little dry and catching on his braces. He makes a mental note to put some wax on them tonight before he falls asleep. “Red alert. Shiro was at the store tonight.”

“Oh, is this gonna be juicy? Please give me the squeeze.”

There’s a pause from both of them and Keith can imagine how Pidge’s face must twist in horror after that slight against god left her mouth. “I’m so sorry, Matt thinks he’s the shit ever since he went to college and his buddies say the weirdest things.”

“Don’t sweat it, just listen. Shiro came into the video store today.”

“As most self-respecting members of a rebellious youth do nowadays.”

Keith rolls his eyes, “At least he pays for his rentals.”

“You’re my in, Keith. Want me to tell you I love you or something.”

“No, I already know.”

“Gross, but good,” Pidge sounds serious before she’s whispering into the phone. “Now tell me the details, the pervy older men details. What is my nerd brother watching tonight with the fellas?”

“I’m in pain every time you speak.”

Pidge waits for him to go on and Keith imagines what she must look like. She’s probably picked up the phone in her room so she can speak freely, though it’s only attached to the space next to her door. Bright green with old bandages she’s stuck to it simply because she liked the designs and didn’t want to waste it. The cord is wrapped bright with Christmas lights, something about the transmissions reaching a higher being in space. Keith can vibe with that.

“Okay, so first of all, his taste in anime is great.”

“Everybody likes DBZ, Keith. That is no feat. You’ve got your rose-tinted glasses on.”

“Shut up,” Keith hisses and he finds purchase for his back against the wall. He slips down it, until he’s sitting in the little space between his small hallway, kicking off his red ROOs and jamming his sock covered feet against the other side.

“Alright, the goods. _My Pipes Need Cleaning, Ass Worshipping Rim Jobs_ and the faithful return of the one hit wonder, _Cum Buns 3_.”

“All those titles sound like award-winning mistakes.”

“If Matt’s picking out the porn, he has shitty taste.”

Pidge is laughing at the other end, kicking her legs in the air as she lays in a pile of unfolded laundry in Keith’s mind. It gets him grinning, knees jumping a little with unused energy.

“Pidge,” Keith says after some time. His voice sounds incredibly small in his empty house and it’s probably worse filtered through the cord and the government tapes of them secretly recording their conversation. “What am I going to do?”

“You’ve got it bad for King of the Cali breeze, bleached Ryan Phillippe, dreamy Heath Ledger, the NSYNC of Keith’s heart—”

“These are all terrible.”

Pidge cackles again. “You only have to the end of summer, before we’re off to adulting and Shiro just returns to the grind.”

Keith remains silent. The summer, shit he only has the _summer_.

“Well, he’s obviously into you. I mean, breakfast this morning? A total move.”

“I don’t think so,” Keith sighs, slouching more into the wall as his hair spills free from the restraints of his ponytail. “I think he was just being polite.”

“Foolish boy,” Pidge hisses, and the movement by the phone indicates she sat up straight. “I know the signs, Matt’s just as obvious when he wants to impress a girl.”

Keith frowns, immediate and deep. “I’m not a girl.”

“ _I’m not saying you are_ , and you know this. I’m just saying, the flirty signs are there! Clear as day, clearer than that anime with the jesus robots you’ve been watching.”

“It’s –”

“I don’t _care_ , Shiro is into you, especially if he’s giving you that dime a dozen smirk while renting shitty porn.”

Keith is practically laying on the floor at this point, feet straight up in the air against the wall. The cord of his phone is stretched to mass capacity. He’s about to respond when he hears the front door unlock. “Oh, my dad is early.”

“Tell him I said hi. You know, you should talk to Hunk. He’s really good at this stuff.”

That sparks Keith’s interest. His dad waves at him from the front, looking tired as he pulls off his coat. He makes his way into the living room out of Keith’s sight.

“That’s not a bad plan. I’ll hit him up tomorrow, I’m off the morning.” A crash nearly makes Keith jump, followed by the whining of his father in a small amount of pain.

_“KEITH, WHAT’S YOUR BOARD DOING IN THE LIVING ROOM”_

“That’s your cue,” Pidge snorts as Keith groans.

“I gotta go, wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it, lover boy.”

***

Hunk is waiting for him on the bench in the only skatepark of their small town. He’s in front of a particular set up that Lance seems to have called home since Keith last visited it. He’s rollerblading on it now, knees purple from being bare and him falling so often. When Keith makes his way into their vision, Lance shoots him a toothy grin and wave but doesn’t stop his grind, returning to his focus of practice.

Hunk grins when Keith moves to sit next to him, handing him a Josta. Keith stares at it before watching Hunk gulp down his own, face remaining neutral.

“I don’t get how you can drink this and not get cardiac arrest.”

Hunk shrugs, before smiling shyly. “We’re all dying Keith, no need to be hyper focused on it.”

“Deep,” Keith mutters, raising an eyebrow but he’s cracking open the energy drink nonetheless.

“So, one of Matt’s friends, huh?”

“Pidge told you already?”

Hunk shakes his head and Keith groans, nearly gurgling on the soda in his mouth that he was hesitating to swallow. “Pidge told _Lance_.”

“Bingo,” Hunk laughs, gently tapping him on the back as he coughs up the drink. Keith likes this side of Hunk, confident and comforting. He sometimes feels envious of Lance, who openly receives this version of Hunk at nearly all times. But it’s fitting, Keith figured, he’s only just started hanging out with him in the last two years. He’s getting there, maybe. With the help of Lance demanding he act “more natural.”

 _Whoot, There It Is_ starts blasting on the skatepark speakers and soon, despite the conversation, the two are bobbing their head along. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Keith says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Pidge told me I only have until the end of the summer.”

Hunk frowns. “Well, that’s true.”

“I’m already running outta time.”

Hunk purses his lips, looking off into the distance before a spark flares up in his eye. It’s incredibly illuminating to watch and Keith is enraptured. “What if you guys went to a concert together?”

“Um, I don’t really know much in the music scene. Other than what Lance mixtapes for me?”

The other man is shaking his head, eyes set firmly on him. “Who cares? Just invite him. I think it’s got to be a rock concert though.”

Now it’s Keith’s turn to frown. “Why?”

“You’ll look cool?”

“Great,” Keith sighs but he’s not really saying _no_. A wind picks up, surprisingly chilly in the summer and Keith wraps his windbreaker tighter around him. Hunk catches the movement and gestures with his eyes to offer his own jacket. Keith politely declines. “Where am I going to get these tickets?”

Hunk grins. “Never fear, Major Tom. I’ve got some. Lance and I were going to the Rage Against the Machine show next week, but it turns out his cousin is getting married. So, we’re going to that.”

“Oh, that’s significantly worse.”

They both laugh, which seems to catch the attention of Lance himself, causing the wheels of his blade to turn sharply during a jump. He eats shit gracefully in their eyes as he comes careening down, skidding a bit before he stands up sharply. Making his way over to the two, grinning before he struggles to keep his knees from wobbling and collapses in-between them.

“Hope that laugher was out of embarrassment by how much more amazing I am than you at shredding.”

Keith nods, watching the bloody nose bloom in front of him as Lance ignores it in favor of smirking.

“Definitely. You got a little something?”

Hunk is on it immediately. “We have to wash your face, bro. You’re gonna get it on your clothes.” The two of them get up as Hunk guides Lance’s shaky legs to the public urinals.

“Thanks, Hunk!” Keith calls out to their fleeting form, receiving a grin and thumbs up from both of them, perfectly in sync and perfectly annoying.

Keith feels warmth in his heart.

***

The evening shift is just as exciting the fiftieth time as it was the first time and by exciting, Keith means dead and by time, he means time is irrelevant and he’s going to die here in his limbo of a space between regret and romantic comedies starring Brandy or Julia Stiles.

Keith is adding to the shelves, a few shipments arriving fresh in Allura’s arms. She’s in the back today, doing stocks and balances and whatever else it takes a person to run a business. Keith has learned long since not to bother her during this time, when the heavy backdoor is shut tight and there’s the faint sound of shrill screaming punctuated by silence every few minutes. He continues to add more high school comedies that seem to be pumping out of the movie making machine lately, Jennifer Love Hewitt staring blankly back at him on the cover of a couple. Her gaze is haunting him. He quickly shoves her and the rest on the shelf, reaching for more when the door rings.

“Welcome to HOME RENTALS,” he calls out, not turning around as he continues to stuff VHS tapes in a somewhat organized fashion.

“That’s a warm welcome,” a voice replies behind him. Keith recognizes it immediately, color darting on his cheeks. His palms begin to sweat but that’s the opposite of cool so he collects himself and turns around.

“Hey,” he grins and Shiro grins back, hands stuffed into his baggy jeans that for once, seem to work. Keith will deny his momentary lapse in fashion sense when Pidge comes fucking _running_.

“Mind if I return some tapes?”

Keith nods, but he means no he doesn’t mind. He stands up and heads towards the register. Shiro follows him, plopping the pile on the counter. The anime is there, and so is the grainy porn but Keith makes quick work, scanning them again.

“I’m just going to go pick out a couple more films, if that’s cool.”

“Go for it,” Keith mutters, making sure to take a quick glance at his ass as he moves away. If his father wouldn’t pass away from the vulgarity, Keith would write home about it. He’ll just call Pidge later instead.

He scans all the tapes and sets them aside as Shiro has made his way back to the register, pile in hand but the red markings on the outskirts in the middle of it tell Keith all he need to know that porn is ready to make its appearance.

Keith collects and shuffles through them. There’s only two _real_ movies this time and two porn titles, the XXX HOME RENTALS scribbled on with heavy sharpie as if just marking on it made it less obvious. Shiro looks a lot less nervous this time, despite _Cum on Eileen_ and _The Bottom Dwellers_ resting snug in Keith’s hands.

“How bold,” Keith points out, checking that the tapes are in and scanning them.

Shiro shrugs, color on his cheeks but it’s more manageable. He looks charming in the ugly florescent lighting. Keith wants to kill him for being so put together. “I don’t get to pick them all the time.”

Is that a joke?

“Huh, is this Matt’s fetish I should be telling Pidge about.”

“He knows you already do that and has long since accepted his fate to public ridicule from the demon.”

“Pidge must like you.”

“I heard I’m lucky.”

Keith looks dead serious, bagging the videos. “Most men aren’t. Count your lucky stars.”

Shiro pays with practiced ease and that’s the perfect way to describe their conversation. Practiced ease that has Keith biting his lip harder and grinning wider. Shiro’s eyes seem to keep catching his braces but for once, he doesn’t feel shy about it. He almost likes the attention.

The older man picks up the tapes before stopping himself, looking Keith in the eyes, much to his sweaty palms’ panic. “If you’re free tomorrow night, wanna join us?”

Keith’s eyebrows immediately fly up before panic sets in to Shiro’s face and he, blushing madly, backtracks. “I mean, not the porn. There’s no porn, but we’re watching the Alien movies. Which I guess is porn if you’re into that stuff. I don’t mean that you are, it’s not like you’re the type but uh, Pidge mentioned that they were some of your favorite films and I thought it might be cool if –”

Keith grins, braces out and palms less sweaty because Shiro’s taking that role it seems. “I’d be down. I have to ask my boss, but I’ll be good to go.”

Shiro smiles, looking anywhere but Keith’s face now as he crinkles the paper bag of movies in his hands. “Great, yeah. It’s at Matt’s place.”

“And Pidge let you?”

“She’s got D&D that night or something?”

Keith also has D&D that night but he’s sure they’ll understand, because there’s only one paladin this high elf is interested in testing his dexterity rolls with.

“I’ll be there.”

“Cool, cool,” Shiro nods, still looking away as he makes his way to the door. Right before leaving, he turns to Keith and offers him an endearing smile. “See you later.”

Keith nods, leaning against the glass of the store, letting out a gulp of air as soon as he’s sure he’s alone.

Except he’s not alone.

“Wow, that was interesting,” Allura says from her place in front of the back door. She looks eerily amused, her expression mirroring Matt whenever he finds old pictures of Pidge as a child and torments her with it. Keith already feels the torment. Allura watches him. “I hear you’re about to ask for some time off.”

 _Shit._ “Uh, yeah. There’s this thing –”

“I heard.” _Of course she did_. “Alright, I’ll call Coran to cover. He’s had enough Oprah for all of us.”

“I promise to make it up—wait, you’ll let me off?”

Allura nods, briskly walking towards him and Keith finally picks up the two full bags of VHS tapes she has in her hands, dropping them swiftly on the counter. She didn’t break a sweat while lifting them but the weight alone looks like it could crush him. “Make sure to put all these away before leaving tonight. Also, rewind those tapes if they aren’t.”

Keith nods, watching her make her exit. She’s show stopping and equal parts terrifying but he’s never appreciated her as much as he does now. “Thank you!”

He’s alone again relatively quickly and collects the tapes Shiro brought back, opening them one by one. The anime ones are already rewond and ready. Keith sighs, mildly dreamily but also from relief of not having to do it. He’s singing praises until he opens _Cum Buns 3_ and is met with all the tape on the left side.

“Motherfucker.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> catch me on twitter, @bogboogie


	4. Gangsta's Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, you got invited to hang with the big boys?”  
> Keith nods, sipping the milkshake they grabbed at the Galra Shack, a food truck that seems to slowly make its way closer and closer into the heart of town. “I’m a big boy.”  
> “Don’t ever say that to me again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in my defense, i was gonna post this on patreon first but got too excited so next time, the delay is real.
> 
> thank you for all for the comments, it was such a boost in motivation, it's crazy. it's childish sometimes, but they mean a lot to me. this chapter is kinda beta'd kinda not so watch out.

CHAPTER 4: Gangsta’s Paradise

“PIDGE!”

Keith knows he’s screaming absurdly loud, something equivalent to how his best friend gets when Nirvana comes on one of the mixtapes. Pidge, to her respect, is barely phased as she peeks her head out of her open window. Keith frantically waves, skateboard in his hand, sweat clearly gathering on his brow.

“What?” Pidge asks, significantly calmer, but _that ass she knew exactly what the fuck is up_. Keith _called_ her thirty minutes go to check if Shiro was at her place, which he _was_ , which was why he’s out here standing in her backyard like some maniac. Keith lets out a frustrated whine, making Pidge crack a smile larger than life. “I’ll be right down, ya nerd.”

She wasn’t right down.

 Her back door opens slowly and soon the two of them are cruising down the street, skating side by side slowly to keep the conversation easy.

“So, you got invited to hang with the big boys?”

Keith nods, sipping the milkshake they grabbed at the Galra Shack, a food truck that seems to slowly make its way closer and closer into the heart of town. “I’m a big boy.”

“Don’t ever say that to me again.”

“It’s tonight,” Keith continues. “We’re watching the Alien movies.”

Pidge turns to him, grinning. “I can’t believe it. He really made Matt change the agenda.”

Before Keith could even ask, she goes on to say, “They were going to watch Indiana Jones, but ever since I blabbed about your fave series, intentionally mind you, I’m too smart for word vomit, Shiro’s been interested in seeing it.”

“Oh,” is all Keith can muster because he took a deep sip and now his brain is frozen and his heart is melting.

They make a sharp turn leisurely, moving down the cool-de-sac until the familiar red brick of Lance’s home comes into view. His grandfather is out on the porch today, a brave man with how hot it gets. They both greet him politely, waiting until he fishes out two tootsie pops from his overalls and hands it to them.

“You shouldn’t keep eating those,” Lance answers the door, leading them inside. “You have no idea where he keeps those.”

“Shut up,” Pidge hisses, finishing her treat.

Lance’s home is pleasant, feels lived in as opposed to the small place he shares with his dad. He knows Lance has a huge family, if all the photographs that litter the hallways and walls say anything. Despite that, there are hardly pictures of the boy, once in a while popping up in a form of graduation memorabilia. Keith doesn’t think he has much a right to ask about it.

Hunk is already in Lance’s room, chilling on his bed with a fashion magazine in his hands. He doesn’t look up when they enter but gives them a small wave.

“So, word on the grapevine is you have a hot date.”

Keith narrows his eyes. “Pidge.”  Who narrows her eyes and says, “Hunk.”

The bigger man puts down the magazine if only to shrug, unashamedly, before sitting up.

“Don’t be shy about it,” Lance grins. “We need to ice you up.”

“Ice?”

“You’re using that word wrong, dude,” Hunk calls from the bed but doesn’t say much else as Pidge all but tackles the small empty space left, colliding with him. He shuffles a bit until it appears more comfortable for her as they watch Keith.

“Whatever, listen. You can’t just be wearing your same old windbreaker and calling it a day. I figured you’d come to me eventually.”

“Actually, I came to Pidge, who apparently went to Hunk. It’s a chain of bad friends, really. And I’m in the center of it.”

“You can’t be in the center of a chain,” Hunk chimes in again, this time having opened the magazine and laid it on the bed so both he and Pidge can give it a gander.

Lance opens his closet. Hero stickers are plastered on every available wooden surface, punctuated by rock posters and a few of rappers Keith has never heard of. He knows they’re probably Hunk’s and that Lance must have hung them up when Hunk started spending most of his time in his room rather than his own home. He’d never admit it but Lance was good, a lot better than the rest of them with big ass dreams and big ass motivation that it used to sometimes set Keith’s teeth at edge.

After some rummaging, Lance turns around. “Open your mouth.”

“Fuck off,” Keith hisses, already connecting the dots.

“It’s trendy, I promise. Lemme see those pearly whites.”

Keith gives in, shooting him a toothy grin so Lance can examine the colors of the bands on his braces. “Perfect, primarily red. How could I expect anything different?”

“Sometimes I wear black.”

“Yeah, I love mall goth too,” Hunk slips in and it wasn’t even a correction this time. There’s a slap heard behind him and Keith knows deep in his soul that the two of them on the bed just high-fived.

Lance pulls out a sweater, a familiar logo on it. “Tommy Hilfiger is your man.” Keith looks at the sweater, knows that Lance saved up last summer for it, picked up extra shifts so the money he wasn’t using for his summer classes could pocketed to buy it. Immediately, Keith is flooded by guilt, that all this time he’s been focused on some college-whatever that he hasn’t really hung out with everyone. Lance looks as if he can read his thoughts.

“Don’t get mushy, or I’ll get mushy. It’s no big deal, just don’t stretch it out. If you gotta flex, take it off.”

Keith laughs, nodding and who said his eyes are a little misty. He’s too cool for that, he’s going to a rock concert soon or something.

They spend the majority of the day, until Keith goes home with Pidge, throwing around accessories, deciding how Keith should wear his hair. He feels ridiculous by the end of it, sporting Hunk’s baseball cap backwards, just as red as the sweater. Hunk told him it will make him look chill, Lance says he looks like those kids who wait outside the principal’s office everyday so their lawyer dad could come to school and wiggle his money in the old office ladies’ faces.

“Are you saying I look like Lotor?”

“Yes,” Lance hisses, much to the glare from Pidge. “But is that really a bad thing?”

“Not tonight,” Pidge replies for him before they make their way out of the door. Before booking it, Keith turns around to face Lance, who’s leaning against the door with a small smile on his lips.

“Do you think,” Keith asks, almost whispering as embarrassment creeps up on him. “you could help me out with the concert too, you know…if he says yes?”

Lance’s eyes light up like fireworks, vibrant and larger than life. Keith used to get envious when he had that look, that Lance must have seem something grand and amazing. It’s the first time Keith has realized it’s always happened when Lance is looking at _him_. He feels humbled, and small, and maybe a little cool for the first time today. “Sure thing, we can do it during my lunchbreak at the strip.”

“Thanks,” Keith says, more confidently. Lance nods before bumping his shoulder fondly. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Keith smiles, trips on the last step and gets a laugh, and follows Pidge as smoothly as the heavy pleasant weight in his heart lets him.

***

Matt looks unimpressed to see him.

“Don’t you have D&D?”

Keith stuffs his hands into his pockets, losing all of his cool and immediately feeling like an idiot. The backwards cap keeps his hair in check as it spills on his shoulders and fingerless gloves – _really fingerless gloves, what was he thinking?_

“Uh, Pidge has D&D.”

Matt narrows his eyes, examining his outfit with a look Keith can’t read because he sucks at reading people and Jesus wept, he’s made a big mistake.

“I invited him,” comes a headless voice behind the two of them. The door Matt is holding ajar is pushed fully open to have a Shiro greet them, standing tall in all his glory. He’s dressed in a ripped tank top and PJ bottoms and Keith is acutely aware now that he’s overdressed.

Matt is mumbling something but moving out of the way so Keith can enter a home he’s practically lived in. Shiro closes the door behind them as the other boy skulks off to the basement.

“You really came,” Shiro grins, making sure to knock against the bill of Keith’s hat. “You look cool. Rad hat.”

“Thanks,” Keith replies, committing because Lance is a fucking genius, he looks great if Shiro’s smile is worth anything. Except it’s worth a lot, like a blank check to never rewind his VHS tapes. “And, uh, thanks for the invite?”

The two of them make it to the basement, hopping over loose beer cans and old pizza boxes. Lance hasn’t been over lately and the state of the place clearly shows it. The first Alien movie is already playing on the television and there isn’t much space left in the couch so Keith follows Shiro leading in sitting in front of it, leaning in the spaces where dangling legs were missing.

They get through the first movie without a hitch, though Keith is barely watching, having long since memorized the film and instead works on memorizing the lines of Shiro’s face. In the dim flickering lightening, he can’t define the freckles that sprinkle his face but gains some secret pleasure in knowing they’re there.

Shiro looks back once in a while but Keith has mastered stealth since the 5th grade when he decided it was smarter to avoid fights instead of acting like a verbal magnet. The second movie is popped in and they make it halfway through before one of Matt’s friends cuts in, “This is fucking boring.”

Keith feels personally offended.

“And what did you have in mind?” Shiro asks, turning around and raising an eyebrow. Keith does too, just the turning around part. A loose leg knocks his hat off but Keith feels to embarrassed to pick it up and set his hair right. He leaves it as it is.

Matt’s eyes shine behind his glasses. “Well, Shiro did bring over some _high-quality_ film making.”

Keith’s eyes widen to the size of saucers before slowly turning his body to Shiro, who looks mortified. “Matt—”

“Getting shy? This won’t take you off the Dean’s list. Promise.”

“But Matt—” Shiro grinds out and makes shifty eyes towards Keith, who has the sudden boost of confidence not to look away. Meets his stare dead on with one of his own which seems to make Shiro squirm even more.

“What do you suggest, Keith?” Matt practically sings and he has the same look in his eye Pidge gets when she’s about to ruin someone’s life. _They’re sibling, undoubtedly_ Keith thinks. “ _Cum on Eileen_ or _The Bottom Dwellers_?”

Shiro fully turns to face Matt, color high on his cheeks that only worsens with the laughter of their friends around them. “Bastard,” he grunts.

“ _The Bottom Dwellers_ sounds like a horror film, so—” Keith keeps looking at Shiro when he answers and Shiro gets acquainted with the rug pattern under them.

“ _The Bottom Dwellers_ it is!”

Matt finds the VHS, Keith recognizes the scribbling on the box, and pushes it into the VCR, chucking the Alien film somewhere haphazardly.

Keith is offended, again.

Everyone shifts to get comfortable but there’s an obvious space created between each person. Shiro looks mortified, hasn’t spoken a word since the porn appeared on the screen. Thirty minutes in, Keith is firmly aware this is not a horror film.

It’s an _ass_ film.

Which could be horrible depending on who’s ass it was.

The sex scene starts off immediately with no preamble, she’s there and he’s there, but also his dick is there. There’s a ton of zooming in to it at first, which Keith appreciates. The two stars start to kiss and Keith finds his eyes being drawn to Shiro’s lips. He looks worse off than Keith, eyes lidded and visibly red. It’s the far-off look someone gets when they’re daydreaming. He wonders what he’s thinking about, maybe some girl back at campus, a hot teacher he had when he’s young.

Keith knows what he’s daydreaming about and selfishly wishes Shiro matches.

And maybe he does, because soon they’re making eye-contact as the moaning begins. Keith isn’t shy, he’s _no virgin_ , something he proudly proclaimed to the gang when he was 16 and got an earful of sarcastic “wow”s. Maybe Shiro’s the virgin, swallowing loud enough that Keith can hear him and staring directly into Keith’s eyes before trailing his gaze down to the collar of Lance’s sweater. When he looks back up, he stops at the small peek of Keith’s braces from under his lips.

Keith scoots closer and Shiro doesn’t move away. One point for the alien boy.

 “So,” Shiro whispers when Keith is close enough. Even quiet, his voice sounds hoarse. “You, uh watch this stuff often?”

“Not as much as you, apparently,” Keith whispers back before leaning up. The moaning is louder but there’s a sound in the background that catches his attention.

Shiro looks disapproving. “It’s not a hobby or anything, it’s just something funny we do, ya know. Make fun of it?” Shiro looks beautiful, nervously shifting his gaze but always falling onto Keith’s lips.

“Uh huh,” Keith smirks. “Sure.” Their fingertips are touching, and maybe that’s the sexiest part of this whole conversation. And there’s that sound again, ruining the mood for him. Keith turns around, squinting in the dim light to find the source of it. Matt comes into focus, looking attentively at the screen.

Keith waits, can feel Shiro’s breath on his neck but something’s off, he has to—

Matt sneezes.

Before Keith can say bless you, he catches the man look around nervously as if to see if he’s been caught. When he deems it acceptable, he looks back to the screen. Keith follows his gaze. Suddenly, during the rough thrusts, the camera zooms into their interlocking sex, and the moment the vagina comes into full view, Matt sneezes again.

Keith’s mouth falls open and now Shiro is starting to look concerned.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, but Keith shakes his head.

“Listen,” he hisses.

A couple of minutes later, there’s another zoom in, a moment to see the way the man flicks at her clit, all grainy in its home recorded quality but that doesn’t stop the sneeze that erupts from the other end of the couch.

“No way,” Keith whispers and he’s pulling himself away from Shiro, because Shiro is great and maybe the best part of the night, but the second-best part is happening right the fuck now. Keith finds the remote on the table and pauses the porn. Everyone looks at him like he’s grown a second head but there’s no time for this.

He points, fingerless glove totally worth it now, at Matt with an accusatory stance. The horror on Matt’s face tells Keith all he needs to know. Caught.

“You sneeze every time there’s a pussy on screen.”

Matt’s face twists into disgust. “Hearing one of my sister’s friends say pussy is the quickest way to make me vomit.”

The retaliation wasn’t enough, the whole gang turns to face the Holt boy. Shiro gets up, swinging an arm around Keith and god, his cologne is definitely Hugo Boss. Keith, subtly, leans in. “I think Keith is on to something, you always had the sniffles during these sessions.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But Matt’s panicked look said, he did, _he did._

“I’m telling Pidge.”

“Keith!” Matt screams, jumping up and the room is in uproar. The bullying is light and friendly and Matt’s laughing his ass off at the end of it. That’s how the rest of the night goes until eventually everyone shuffles home. Keith is sleeping over, waiting until Pidge returns so he helps Matt and Shiro clean up.

When everything is put away, and the VHS tapes are rewond, Keith was _on_ that like Donkey Kong, Shiro says goodbye, heading to the door.

“Wait,” Keith calls out at the doorway as Matt makes kissy faces behind his back. He can hear his lips smacking and Shiro looks embarrassed. “Um, there’s this concert coming soon. If you’re up for it?”

Sparks explode in Shiro’s vision, a grin spreading wide on his face. It’s the same look Lance gives him, like there’s unlimited potential there, but instead of just the warmth Keith usually feels, his heart flutters. “Sure. I’m staying at my mother’s place over the summer but let me give you her house number.”

Shiro scribbles it out on a paper Keith scrambled to collect before leaving, a final wave goodbye as he crosses the street.

“Gay,” Matt whispers behind him.

Keith sneezes and laughs at the look on his face.

***

“My brother is a pervert.” Pidge snorts out at Keith’s retelling, dipping her fries into Lance’s ketchup.

They’re all in their usual lunch table at work, the white plastic glaring against the sunshine.

Lance pushes his food away. “I’m just disappointed you guys didn’t break out into a massive orgy.”

“I think _you’re_ the one watching too much porn,” Keith teases, taking another bite of his burger. “But he said yes, to the concert. Thanks again, for the tickets.”

Lance nods, turning around to face Hunk, who’s sitting behind a grill, forced to work during their break, much to the whole gangs chagrin. “He said thanks!”

Hunk looks up and smiles, causing everyone to smile back. “We’ve been smiling too much,” Pidge grumbles, just flat out stealing Lance’s ketchup at this point. “We’re running our street rep.”

“Sometimes when I’m in Hunk’s Hummer, I blare _Gangster’s Paradise_ so don’t worry, I keep us fresh.”

“It’s Gangsta. How does Hunk let you get away with that? Also, I feel like you are using words wrong again,” Keith steals the ketchup from Pidge, pouring the rest on what’s left of his burger despite the protests of the two others.

“Whatever, end game, Shiro is going to a concert with you. The summer isn’t over yet, and my sweater returned to me without a stain.”

“All good things,” Pidge agrees.

“Great. And so, I just have one question,” Keith starts as Lance stuffs a bunch of fries in his mouth. “Who are Rage Against the Machine, and why are they so _angry_?”

Lance chokes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyyy im @bogboogie on twitter and im ready to stop

**Author's Note:**

> Blame my friends for enabling me.


End file.
